open doors
by the primrose path
Summary: Terra, Aqua, and Ventus over the years, in different worlds, and what they mean to each other.
1. 07-10: ASSAY

this is planned to be a series of 30 drabbles based on merriam-webster's word of the day. i'm also currently a few days behind so please bear with me lol.

word definitions will be at the end of every chapter.

* * *

When the star-shaped charm broke, Xehanort didn't take it to a glassworker.

From behind the cash register, the middle-aged mage pulled out a small, strangely glittering magnifying glass and leaned over to briefly inspect the charm—or rather, what was left of it. It was bent inward into a sharp but shallow V-shape, one of the orange-yellow panes fractured in one long clean crack. Another pane lay beside it on the stone counter, whole but popped clear out of its frame.

"What happened to this thing?" he asked with a severe, puzzled frown.

"It was like that before... bent and cracked, that is. That pane fell out yesterday after I accidentally dropped it."

The mage hummed and set the magnifying glass aside with a click on the carved granite. "Come back in two days. I'll need to look at it more closely and estimate the costs before I can give you my verdict."

Xehanort bowed.

Two days later, he returned. "Can you fix it?"

The mage peered up at him from behind his rimless bifocals with a frown. "Where did you say you got this charm from?"

"I didn't say," Xehanort said stiffly.

"Hm, of course. Well," the mage pushed up his glasses, "I can certainly fix the superficial damage. The bent silver frame is no problem, nor is the pane that fell out. The cracked glass is a bit tougher but ultimately not an issue either. However, the magic worked on this glasswork is something entirely different."

"What magic?"

"You didn't know? You came to me instead of a normal craftsman."

"I..." Xehanort stammered, a storm whirling in his mind. "No, I—I didn't know."

"I see. There are multiple enchantments on this glasswork. Spells to protect the glass and the frame, to keep the rope tight and the silver from tarnishing. That's why the glass is fractured here like so," he said, tracing the crack with the tip of a finger, "and not outright shattered. It's the same with the pane that fell out and likely with how little the metal frame's been bent compared to the amount of force that must've been applied in order to do this much damage through the enchantments. You don't know what happened to this glasswork?"

Xehanort hesitated, knowing that he had no clue, and yet—something. Something vicious and black.

The mage watched him expectantly, and finally he shook his head.

"Whatever it was, it must have been something impressive," the mage mused, turning the charm over in his hands. "Though the enchantments were stronger in the end. The spellwork is very well-done and precise. I'm not sure I could have done the same; spells of protection aren't my personal forte. They must have been a skilled practitioner."

Inexplicable pride bloomed in Xehanort's heart, and he nodded.

"There's another enchantment as well, and this one's curious. It's very difficult to pin down—I've never seen its like before—but it seems to be linking this glasswork to something else."

Xehanort shook his head at the question in the mage's eyes. "I wouldn't know what it is."

"Well, it's very unique. Complex as well. Forging a magical connection to another object when it's not for communication is uncommon to say the least. Do you know if this glasswork possibly has any other like it? If the maker crafted other pieces like this? It may be linked to them as a kind of notation or personal signature."

"No, I don't."

The mage shook his head. "A shame that you know so little about this piece. It's marvelous work. Anyway, the issue with the enchantments is the beating they've taken from whatever damaged the glass and frame. Normally I don't see this occur with such strong spellwork, but... in layman's terms, they're fraying, all of them. If they're not repaired, the enchantments will eventually break and release a significant amount of energy before falling apart."

"That sounds ugly," Xehanort murmured.

"Indeed it would be. Theoretically I can repair them, but it will take some time and frankly, it will be expensive. It's delicate work, especially when one of the enchantments is something I'm completely unfamiliar with. However, I would like to present a counter offer." The mage leaned forward, earnest. "I would like to buy this from you."

Xehanort tensed. "Excuse me?"

"I would like to buy this from you," he repeated, pushing up his glasses again. "It's intriguing and quite a valuable piece; the frame is silver, and as a result it's also very conducive to magic. Personally I would value this at about 75,000 munny."

"75,000?"

"It's negotiable, but yes. What do you say?" The mage's eyes glowed with scholarly fascination as he gazed at the charm again, before jumping where he stood as Xehanort slammed his hands down on the counter with enough force to rattle the pieces against the granite.

" _This,_ " he growled, lip curling, the wind rushing in his ears, " _is not for sale._ "

The mage stared at him with alarm, eyes wide, and abruptly Xehanort came back to himself, perturbed as he pulled away. "I apologize, sir," he said. "Deeply. I went too far. But I only want to get the charm fixed. I'm not interested in selling it."

"Ah." The mage nodded several times, clearly disappointed but still unsettled as he gathered the charm and loose pane of glass to place somewhere behind the counter again. "All right then. Let me give you a quote on the repair costs."

As he continued to explain the pricing, Xehanort's thoughts drifted away to puzzle over his outburst instead—with little success.

 _Why?_

* * *

assay  
a-SAY | verb

1: a: to analyze (something, such as an ore) for one or more specific components  
b: to judge the worth of; estimate

2: try, attempt

3: to prove to be of a particular nature by means of analysis


	2. 07-11: REPUDIATE

"It can't be." Ventus shook his head in wordless disbelief. "It can't be true."

"But it is."

"Terra," Ventus whined as he flung his hands towards the object of his doom—a dice roll of eight. "You can't do this to me."

"Move your scottish terrier, Ven," Terra replied, an evil smirk on his face as he eyed his beautiful, beautiful set of yellow properties and bright red hotels that spelled Ventus's fate. "You have no other choice."

"Aqua?"

With pity, Aqua shook her head at Ventus's desperate pleading. "I'm sorry, Ven, but he's right. You have to."

Terra wanted to burst into laughter at the horror on his friend's face but decided, with no little amount of regret, that that would probably be milking it. Finally, as if dragging his limbs through an ocean of mud, Ventus lifted his silver dog token and moved it ahead eight spaces to Marvin Gardens.

"That'll be 60,000 munny in rent," Terra pronounced.

Ventus scowled; his hands twitched as if they wanted to throw his property cards to the floor (or maybe at Terra's face), but he set them down carefully instead. "Great! Because of dumb freaking luck, I lost."

"Oh come on, Ven, don't be a sore loser."

"I'm not being a sore loser! You're supposed to be the one who goes bankrupt first because you buy all the stupidly expensive streets."

"You're just bitter because my _superior strategy_ —" Aqua snorted quietly, which Terra ignored, "—means you have to clean the giant chains tomorrow."

Ventus crossed his arms. "I'm not cleaning them."

Terra crossed his arms back and pointedly met his stare. "Yes, you are."

Aqua shook her head and set her cards aside as well. "Ven, you lost fair and square. That means you have to clean the chains. We've been doing this for years and that's how it works."

"You and Terra have been doing this for years," Ventus corrected. "I was never in on this until I came here. I say the rules don't apply to me."

Terra spluttered. "That doesn't even make sense, Ven!"

"Yeah it does. I didn't get to make the rules; therefore, I don't have to follow them."

Terra broke his staredown with Ventus to look at Aqua for support, utterly aghast. "Aqua, back me up here. That doesn't make sense, right? Ven still has to clean the chains."

Aqua sighed. "Why do I always have to be the mediator for you two?"

"Aqua, you're the smartest person I know and I greatly respect your opinion and that's why I always ask you who's right whenever Ven and I argue," Terra said seriously, placing a hand on her shoulder. "So... I'm right, right?"

Aqua rolled her eyes with good humor, gently brushing his hand off. "You know, Ven does kind of have a point."

Ventus pumped a fist in victory.

"But..." Aqua gave him a significant glance. "Don't count your chickens just yet, Ven. You're still not right. You know our rules for deciding who does the chain chore—you've played the games with us twice now. Just because you weren't here when we first figured it out doesn't mean you get to be exempt from the risk you know you're taking. And honestly, you live here too, Ven. Sometimes you just have to clean a giant set of chains."

Terra grinned at Ventus triumphantly, at which Aqua rolled her eyes again. "Better get that mop and bucket ready for tomorrow, Ven."

"Yeah, for when I mop your face," he grumbled.

"Nice comeback, champ."

"As in I'm gonna have to mop your face," Ventus said, louder and smirking, "off the floor once Aqua crushes you at Monopoly for the thousandth time in your sad, annoying life."

"Ouch," Aqua murmured, beaming.

Terra scowled at them both with as much pretend contempt as he could muster, even as his heart swelled with fondness. "I hate you both. You're not my family anymore."

"Aw," Aqua cooed, though her eyes had softened, "we're family to you?"

Ventus grinned, hearing it as an Aqua-certified ribbing, but he hadn't been around long enough yet to realize that Terra never quite said things like that. He didn't even know what had compelled him to say it; it'd just come out.

Terra briefly met Aqua's warm, teasing gaze before looking away, gut twisting and cheeks beginning to flush with something like anxious embarrassment. "I've never seen you guys before in my life," he muttered and gestured towards the board and his stunning set-up. "Now pick up your cards, Aqua. I'm taking you down."

* * *

repudiate  
verb | rih-PYOO-dee-ayt

1: to divorce or separate formally from (a woman)

2: to refuse to have anything to do with; disown

3: a: to refuse to accept; especially to reject as unauthorized or as having no binding force  
b: to reject as untrue or unjust

4: to refuse to acknowledge or pay

a final note: if you're confused about terra's characterization at the end of this, i just really wanted to stick that in here and i promise i'll explain it fully in a future prompt! for now, i'll say that in my canon, he had attachment issues growing up and still has them to some extent, as well as anxiety (tho it doesn't act up often at home thanks to supportive relationships).

thanks for reading!


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